Her mother must have been worse off, if it had not been for Grandcourt. "I suppose I shall never see all this again," said Gwendolen, looking round her, as they entered the black and yellow bedroom, and then throwing herself into a chair in front of the glass with a little groan as of bodily fatigue. In the resolve not to cry she had become very pale.
"You are not well, dear?" said Mrs Davilow.
"No; that chocolate has made me sick," said Gwendolen, putting up her hand to be taken.
"I should be allowed to come to you if you were ill, darling," said Mrs Davilow, rather timidly, as she pressed the hand to her bosom. Something had made her sure to-day that her child loved her—needed her as much as ever.
"Oh yes," said Gwendolen, leaning her head against her mother, though speaking as lightly as she could. "But you know I never am ill. I am as strong as possible; and you must not take to fretting about me, but make yourself as happy as you can with the girls. They are better children to you than I have been, you know." She turned up her face with a smile.
"You have always been good, my darling. I remember nothing else."
"Why, what did I ever do that was good to you,
